


Wolf Children

by psychoduck



Category: Sharp Objects (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Camille Preaker (mentioned), Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 08:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17742389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychoduck/pseuds/psychoduck
Summary: They were certain she had been hunted and killed by a wild animal, a baby killer, a vicious wolf hidden among them all in human’s clothing and it was baring its teeth out for the entire world to see.





	Wolf Children

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themelodymaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themelodymaker/gifts).



> Once again, I own nothing.  
> Also, Steph... please stop giving me these ideas. I'm fragile.

_We had fun, running around in the woods. We were wild._

If you were to head into the woods around Wind Gap for some good ol’ hunting spree, you had to be mindful that every now and then, a kid would appear right in front of your eyes just to disappear quickly as a deer, as fast as you could blink. Maybe some kids truly were like a deer, ever elusive, easy-mannered and preyed upon. But there would always be one kid, just one, that would be raised inside out and instead of a docile creature, would become another sort of animal, a bloody hunter, voracious, violent like a wolf and that was the kind of beast you had to really watch out for – these wolf children – because they would always grow up to become the very animal they were to begin with. And every single ripe, delicious deer out there in these woods would be hunted down ‘til they vanished for good.

The day those hunters found Ann Nash’s body floating in that shallow stream, barely hanging from small rocks, only attached by the clothesline around her tiny bruised neck, a few of them were certain she had been hunted and killed by a wild animal, a baby killer, a vicious wolf hidden among them all in human’s cloth and it was baring its teeth out for the entire world to see. 

* * *

The first time Amma killed someone it was out of curiosity.

For months Amma had been feeling this weird sort of itch, not the physical kind, no – it would’ve been too easy to just scratch it out, but still a very real itch, right beneath her skin, spiraling out from her head like tiny spiders and down her arms until she’d feel it very vividly in her fingertips, almost as if she had to snap or break something with her bare hands, an impulse of raw destruction. For months, Amma would head to her mama’s pig farms where all those blood stupid stinky-sweaty men would allow her to help them with cleaning and preparing hogs for slaughter, one of them showed her how they had to remove all of the hog’s teeth so it wouldn’t bite them back.

“One less mouth out there to hurt you, little lady, you better learn that now, you better finish ‘em off before they can even get a chance to fight back, you better strike ‘em down fast and good”, he told her one day while handing Amma the pliers.

And it was certain that for every day she went there, Amma would thrive while hearing all those fat pigs squealing right before dying, to her it sounded like a very fucked-up symphony but not like the ones her father would hear all the time back in their home. This was different; this was a symphony of death. During those afternoons, Amma would simply prop herself up against a fence while wondering if humans also squealed like that when they died and what kind of music would they play for her ears only.

She kept wondering that until one day, she wondered no more. Because, you see, the itch never stopped nagging at her head, her arms, her hands, so she had to find a way to scratch it out of her mind. Even if it as only for a while. She just had to.

To hunt down Ann Nash would be almost too easy, Amma thought, so she had to develop a game of sorts to make things a little more interesting, a set up play before the big feast. To each girl she gave a role, a character they needed to be and they all had to be prepared in many ways for she was Artemis, the greek goddess of hunting and she would get them all – but that far from her true intentions, she was hunting yes, but only Ann this time, who had been getting way too much of her mama’s attention, Amma had to choose someone and Ann was right there for her to take, she just wanted to see if she could make her squeal real good and maybe later on, sing.

The wolf roared inside her head while she ran through the forest with her white dress on. At last, it was time to bite the game.

While the others girls held a struggling Ann down, Amma secured the clothesline around her neck, pulling it tighter and tighter. _Until it bends, until it breaks_ , Amma thought. But Ann didn’t truly squeal, she only made some raspy gagging sounds and there wasn’t any kind of singing afterwards either, so Amma decided just left her there, being gently lulled to death among the rocks. Someone would find the body eventually, there was no rush. When she gathered her things and told the other girls to go home and clean themselves good and never utter a word or else. As always, they did her bidding and left the hunting stage pretty quickly. _Sometimes it was just too easy to play those fools_ , Amma thought, while taking a good and long look at her unfinished work.

She wanted to be alone for this specific part; Amma didn’t want to share this with anyone else, no. This was pure, raw power and she was the only one gutsy enough, the only one worthy enough to wield it.

And while holding her mama’s blood stained pliers, Amma swore she could feel the itch receding a bit.

* * *

The second time Amma killed someone it was out of spite.

She was bound to do it again some time. Her first one was fun but it ended too fast if you asked her and she did not get what she really wanted; that damn song. All that itching was raging on her mind and driving her crazy, she had to do something about it. Also, Natalie had been on her radar for weeks now with again, all that attention from Mama. And Amma had been trying to get her older brother’s attention for a while, like she did with every stupid jerk around school, just to brag about having every single one of them around her fingers and yet, he never seemed to care for any of her antics. How come she was losing in her own game, in her own town? So, just like that, Natalie had to go. Maybe Mama would learn this time. Maybe John would pay for being stupid enough to not fall for her. She had to get their attention back and she had to teach them one hell of a lesson.

 _Nobody fucks with me_ , she thought, after luring Natalie into the woods but this time around, things were going to be quite different for all parties involved. Of course she had to set the stage scene again, again she made herself be something else and this time she chose The Woman in White. Amma told Natalie they were going to make a homemade horror film in Jodes’ pool house; she was only missing a victim and Natalie would be perfect for that.  

Amma took her time with her prey. She had the other girls help her again, making sure Natalie was quiet, making sure Natalie was pretty and prim and proper, making sure Natalie would be ready when her reckoning time came, making sure everyone knew that and were playing their parts.

Once more, the wolf inside her bore its teeth out in a menacing sneer.

Natalie squealed a bit but she also struggled less, again there was no music in the end. This time, Amma had more practice under her belt, so all that teeth pulling felt a bit easier for her, mama’s pliers felt more fitting in her hands, sturdier. With each tooth she managed to pull out, Amma felt stronger, better, deadlier. And each individual tooth remaining inside Natalie’s mouth was another itch she could scratch away from her mind.

That whole town was in for a ride with this one, she would gift them all with the knowledge that she was still very much there among them and she was untouchable.

_I’ll make ‘em see, nobody fucks with me._

Even if she had to prop Natalie up in the town square all by herself; this time they would see.          

* * *

The third time Amma killed someone it was out of rage.

She did not went through all that trouble of being a fucking good girl for years, enduring her father's complicit bullshit and taking all of mama’s blues as if she were little dead saint Marian, only for some random girl to come and snatch Camille from her. She wasn’t planning to do it again and she thought she was getting so much better now that the poison was out of her system; she hadn’t scratched herself in months. Amma had begun to think that the fucking itch has been placed in her head by her mama. She was doing better, Camille was making her better and then _she_ appeared just to ruin everything, pretending to be all over Camille, liking the same things as she did, studying the same subjects, that cunt even had the nerve to write in her own skin as Camille used to do. How dare she think she was anything similar to her Mille and to her? How dare she think she knew anything at all about pain? That girl had no idea about what they went through together in Wind Gap, all the despair and loneliness and all that anger and that damn wretched misery of knowing they'd die by Mama's own hands without a single soul to save them but themselves. No one knew what that felt like; no one ever could.

 _She is like my soul mate and nobody fucks with my baby but me, not without a taste of my menace, not without a spoon filled to the brim with Mama's love_ , Amma thought the night before while Camille sweetly kissed her goodnight.  

This time there was no stage set, no playing around, no weapon of choice, no prepping. Amma was willing to use her bare hands if needed. Her body felt consumed - no longer by that weird spider-crawling itch, but by some kind of velvety liquid fire, burning her from the inside out, burning her until there was nothing left but fury, a cold and raging fury.

If Camille wanted the girl, then she could have her for good, but it would be on Amma’s own terms and her terms were set in blood red stone. There was squealing - loads of it, she squealed just as much as the pigs did, the girl just wouldn’t shut up, which made Amma even more ferocious in her strike. She pressed and squeezed and pulled, harder and harder until the girl’s body slumped in front of her, like they always did before. Camille was hers. That would prove it to her, that would prove it to everyone, because they all knew that nothing spoke louder than a dead little girl and not even that would scream louder than Amma's love for her sister.

This was just another broken neck, another girl bound to be broken someday, Amma was just helping nature along like her Mama used to say. She didn’t have to do anything else after that except to rejoice, there was no need for any teeth pulling bullshit this time around, for she finally heard the music playing for her ears only, her very own made-up symphony of death, completed in every sense you could think of, from the nuanced ominous movements to the blood dripping from its notes, yes, this one was her _schwanengesang_ and it was fucking perfect. 

That stupid slumped broken excuse of a body fucking sang to her, about her, about Camille. And there it was, the certainty that the wolf that lived so well hidden inside her was no longer a pup. It was now fully formed and ready to be set free, to run wild within her howling thoughts. An animal, at last, in its prime, born and raised only to prey, to maim, to feed and to kill.

_Death is one hungry mouth and now there are dead girls everywhere._

Amma breathed out in blissful relief, gathered her keys from the dirty floor and went home; it was almost time for dinner.

 _See it through, through my eyes_  
_Walk me to the water_  
_Hold my hand and something turns to me_  
_Love me every night_  
_Drown me in the water_  
_Hold my hand and there's something turning me_  
_See it through my eyes_  
_Love me like no other_  
_And hold my hand and something turns to me_  
_And turns me into you_ ¹

**Author's Note:**

> Gillian, sweetie, I'm so sorry I keep trashing your work like this. 
> 
> Feel free to send love, hate and memes, y'all.
> 
> ¹Thinking of a Place by War on Drugs.


End file.
